


Fabled

by windandthestars



Category: The Newsroom (US TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Single Parents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-30
Updated: 2017-12-29
Packaged: 2019-02-23 20:07:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13197612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/windandthestars/pseuds/windandthestars
Summary: He watches her carefully cross out his office number, his fax number, and his job title with deep black rectangles and then turn the card over to addLindy’s Dad, Library Storytime, before pausing expectantly until he rattles off his cell number.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I was a bit self-indulgent during NaNo and wrote a bunch of AU snippets, scenes or scene fragments, to go with some art I'd been playing with. Most of the snippets aren't going to make it to the light of day (mostly the ones with finished art, because yes, of course), but I thought I'd try and clean some of them up so I could share.

He’d made sure they arrived early, claiming a spot at the back of the carpeted amphitheatre seating the library used for storytime. He was hoping the extra time would help Lindy get acclimated, get used to the other kids as they filed in so that when they called the kids down to the front for a better view she wouldn’t hang back with him.

The library’s quiet this time of morning, but they’re not alone, there’s another parent, a mom with her daughter at the other end of the semicircle. The girl zooming up and down the impromptu steps as her mother shakes her head clearly amused.

“There’s a dragon.” Lindy says in her perpetually soft voice and he drops his attention back to the book currently pressed into his knee.

“Does this one breathe fire?” He asks but already Lindy’s gone quiet and only shrugs in response, flipping to the next page.

“If you like that book,” the voice comes from his right and he looks up to see the girl he’d been watching holding out a book to Lindy. “This one’s good too.”

Lindy takes the book and considers it for a moment before folding the book she’d been reading closed and holding it out to the other girl.

“Oh, you can keep it too. I don’t mind sharing.”

Will smiles, amused by her chattiness and the girl grins back, plunking herself down next to them.

“We could read it together.”

Lindy nods and he looks up surprised, searching for the women he had seen earlier only to find her smiling at the sight they’re presenting. He shrugs and she nods and he figures he’s gotten lucky.

Lindy loves this book and it turns out so does her new friend. He still finds it weird to think of the two of them like that, but it seems true enough so he tries to enjoy it. Lindy hasn’t said anything but the other girl talks enough for them both, reading aloud as Lindy turns the pages, points at things that start up a somewhat one sided conversation.

“He was a sc—” She pauses and he’s surprised to hear Lindy chip in a very firm, “scholar. He’s a scholar.”

“Oh, he’s smart.”

The two girls grin at each other as he sits there dumbfounded. He’s been hoping for this for years, after all the trying and the wishing, here it was out of nowhere, Lindy making friends.

There’s a rustling and he looks up to find the woman has moved closer. She’s holding up a bag of cheerios with raised eyebrows. He nods and she sits to offer them to her daughter.

“Would you like a snack?” The words are smoother than he’d expected, softer than the New York accent he’d anticipated, but crisper.

The “Yes, Mommy, thank you.” that follows bears only a hint of the same lilt as the snack is accepted and deposited in front of the book balanced between the two girls, Lindy’s hand quickly disappearing into the bag as the story continues.

“She’s sweet, your daughter.” The woman confides with a smile, bright and a little mischievous he thinks, as she moves around to the other side of him, leaving the girls in peace. “Mine’s quite a talker.”

“But just as sweet.” He smiles back and she nods, quiet as they watch the girls pouring over the book, Lindy occasionally chipping in until, suddenly it seems, the room has filled with children and both girls are bounding off down the tiered steps, Lindy being led by the hand to the front of the crowd.

He doesn’t pay much attention to the stories being told, pays even less attention to the puppets and the upswells of laughter. He’s never had much interest in events like this, even as a child, but he’d known Lindy would enjoy it, the fantastical nature of it all, so he’d made a point of trying out different events around the borough for the last couple of months.

Every other morning had been spent with her pressed up beside him, but this morning he’s suddenly unencumbered by her tiny form as he leans back on his elbows to study the ceiling.

“Do you do this every week? The storytime. Or rather,” He has a problem. He realizes that. Lindy’s obviously become attached and there’s not going to be a good way out. He’d avoided a scene on the way in; he wasn’t going to be so lucky on the way out. “Are you going to be here next week? Lindy seems quite attached and she isn’t— she doesn’t have a lot of friends. It’s usually impossible to get her to say anything. Most of the other kids...”

He trails off as the woman smiles, not the brief flickering smiles she had offered him before, but a real smile, warm and understanding. 

“We’re here every week. It’s hell at the office sometimes, but I make a point of not working on the weekends unless it’s an emergency.”

“It’s always an emergency.” He says knowingly and she chuckles, nodding.

“We’re here every week. I can give you— in case something comes up.” She turns to rustle through her bag.

When she pulls a thin yellow notebook out of her purse and flips up the cover he feels his heart sink. “Reporter?”

“Journalist.” She glances at him, seeming a little amused by whatever she sees on his face, but doesn’t say anything as she writes carefully in one neat column:

_MacKenzie_  
_Lexi’s mom_  
_Library storytime (Saturdays)_

And then scrawls her number at the bottom as he digs out his wallet for a business card. He’s a bit reluctant to give it to her but it is the most expedient way to exchange information, and she’s going to find out eventually who he is and where he works, so she might as well hear it from him. 

“The DAs?” She glances down at the card then back at him, considering. 

“Yeah. That’s not a problem is it?” 

“Not at all.” 

He watches her carefully cross out his office number, his fax number, and his job title with deep black rectangles and then turn the card over to add _Lindy’s Dad, Library Storytime_ , before pausing expectantly until he rattles off his cell number. 

“You don’t have a card?” He asks as he watches her tuck his away. He hasn’t met a journalist this disinclined to pass on their contact information, particularly when they had, as she had, clearly recognized his name. She seems to be serious in her disinterest though, it isn’t a show, not when it would be so easy with him sitting right here willing to take whatever she has to offer; she slides a card out far enough for him to see the CNN logo at the top and then slips it back into place. 

“I don’t give them out unless I’m courting sources.” 

Courting sources. He smiles at that. “Off the clock then?” 

“As such.” She says in a way that suggests she never truly was but that this time she’s willing to make an exception. Although he’s not entirely sure what that means moving forward he doesn’t mind, doesn’t ask as they sit companionably through the rest of the stories, the re-enactment of several fairy tales he only half recognizes. 

The room empties out and they gather up their things, heading down to where the girls are sitting giggling.When he tells Lindy they have to go she wraps one hand around Lexi’s arm and stares up at him like she no longer recognizes him. 

“No,” she says, not in the wounded cry he’s used to, but with a stubborn certainty he’s never seen from her. 

“Lindy we have to go. Lexi has to go home too. You can see her next week.” He squats down to her level, speaking patiently while calmly, quickly planning an exit strategy. 

Beside him, MacKenzie taps him on the shoulder, holding out a page she’s ripped out of her notebook. He looks at it then back at her as she gestures at Lindy. He hands it to his daughter, who’s still looking at him like he’s breaking her heart, and waits for an explanation. 

He hears MacKenzie sigh and then she kneels, sitting back on her heels to explain. 

“This is today.” She points to the row of boxes, the tiny building that she’s drawn next to a rectangle he’s assuming is a book. “You can cross it out when you get home. Then tomorrow when you get up cross out the next box, and on Monday the next box, until you get to the box with the other library. That’s the day Lexi and I will be waiting for you for another story time.” 

Lindy looks suspicious but she’s loosened her grip on Lexi to take the paper in both hands and study it carefully. 

“Can I use your special pen?” She looks at him to wonder and he nods, allowing himself to feel a momentary sense of relief. “The blue one?” 

“You can use which ever one you’d like.” He promises and she seems satisfied, reaching to take his hand for a moment as he stands, and then suddenly releases him to throw her arms around Lexi. 

“I miss you already.” Lexi promises and Mac shoots him a smile, another quick flash of humor before holding out her hand. 

“We have to stop in and see Miss Levy on the way home.” 

“Mommy.” Lexi whines with an exaggerated pout before she stops to whisper in Lindy’s ear with a giggle, the two girls separating as Lexi reaches to take her mother’s hand. “This was the best story time ever.” She announces and Lindy nods emphatically, reaching up to take hold of the bottom of his shirt. 

“Bye, Lexi.” She murmurs and Lexi turns to wave with a bright smile before skipping a few steps and disappearing out the door. 

“Let’s go get breakfast, kiddo.” He smiles at Lindy, carefully waiting a moment before following them out the door 


	2. Chapter 2

He has a problem. He’d realized that halfway through the second storytime, although he lets things drag out for another couple of weeks after that. He shouldn’t be trading silent, amused smiles with an almost perfect stranger. He should be sharing them with Nina, only he shouldn’t, not really, because he’s known for a long time that all they do is wear on each other, and Nina he knows doesn’t have a problem with taking it out on Lindy.

“She never says anything.” Nina starts in again and he’s had it. He’s had it for a long time, but this time he’s really had enough.

“No.” He says, firmly, quietly despite the anger roiling in his stomach. Lindy was in the next room; she was always in the next room. “We’re not doing this again. I’m sick of this. It’s the same thing every time and I’m done. I want you out. Real estate in the city is a hellscape but I want you gone by Friday.”

“Will.”

“I’m serious. This is it, Nina. I’m done.”

“How are you going to explain? You can’t expect me to—”

“I’m sure I can think of something.”

“I’m the only mo—”

“Careful, Nina. We both know how you feel about that word.” It was a nasty word; he knew that’s what she thought, although she pretended otherwise. She’d never been interested in Lindy, had always found her to be an inconvenience. She’d only been interested in Will, in his power, his money, the sex. He wasn’t sure anymore what it was that had drawn them together, what had kept them together for this long other than convenience.

“Darshana’s going to be disappointed.” Another empty threat he’s ignoring. He’s gotten good at that. The lies though, those he can’t ignore and she knows it. “She always said you didn’t know how to keep a woman.”

“I kept you long enough. I want you gone by Friday. Lindy and I are going to the park if you want to start packing.”

She stares at him perturbed but not at all disappointed or upset, waiting, he knows, for him to turn away and give her that final victory. Normally it infuriated him, but this time there’s a sense of relief, the finality of it all feels good, feels unsurprising in the same way the empty apartment is when he and Lindy return. He had known it wouldn’t take her long to go, there wasn’t much holding her here, but he doesn’t spare a second thought for the space he’d already filled or for the fact that the only empty spot she’s left is the space in the closet where her clothes had hung.


End file.
